


That One Time In A Coffin In A Truck On The Gotham Bridge

by xTammyVx



Category: DCU Animated, Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Costumes, Dry Humping, Embarrassment, Epic Friendship, Friendship, Heterosexuality, Inappropriate Erections, Kidnapping, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Road Trips, Shame, Shameless Smut, Tight Pants, Tight Spaces, coffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTammyVx/pseuds/xTammyVx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why in the name of everything ever are you not wearing a cup?!” Robin finally spluttered.</p><p>“We were just supposed to be doing a speech and waving at some cameras! I didn’t think that we’d be getting kidnapped and shoved in a coffin!” the speedster replied in a low wail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Time In A Coffin In A Truck On The Gotham Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Because I have been writing so many long fics recently, and none of them are finished.
> 
> Actually, I don't have to explain myself to you. _You_ clicked it.
> 
> Happy reading!

Robin was woken up by a low groan and hot breath that smelled like Pringles. He wasn't in his bed, but he _was_ in his costume, and it was uncomfortably warm.

The walls were thick but there were gaps between the planks – gaps which allowed thin streams of light to flicker in. They must have been in some kind of vehicle, he realised as the container jolted, and passing street lights. That meant that they were in a city of some kind. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

What _was_ a good thing was that Kid Flash was waking up, too. He mumbled something, sleepily incoherent even to Robin, and then gasped, darting to sit upright and hitting his head on the roof.

.

The second time that Kid Flash became conscious, three hours after they had given speeches outside the Hall of Justice, Robin had assessed the situation and had come to the conclusion that it officially and undoubtedly sucked. His hands weren't tied, but there were no loose bolts or anything for him to dislodge. His comm. link was offline—some crazy-good blocker—and the box was too small for him to shift out from underneath his friend. He may have been strong, but he was also small, and KF… well… _wasn't_. He was heavy, and, once again, surprised to be straddling his best friend's thigh.

"No!" Robin hissed as KF gave a surprised gasp and went to get some space between them. "You've already done that, and it didn't work, and I can't spend another hour with you on top of me!"

"What the heck is going on, Rob?" the ginger asked, his classic grin nonexistent as he noted the tiny amount of wriggle room. It was barely enough for him to prop himself up on his own elbows, and when he did, it still only allowed half an inch between their bodies.

The younger boy, his chest relieved of the weight, admitted, "I don't know. We're in a box."

"Ah. The detective strikes again."

"Oh, funny."

"Ever the charmer. Where's the rest of the Team?"

"I don't know," repeated Robin, a soft sigh accompanying his words. There wasn't even enough room for him and KF to be face-to-face with more than half a centimeter of space between their mouths. "Miss Martian isn't on the psychic link, so we're either out of range, or she's knocked out. I haven't tried yelling. We don't know who's driving, or what else is in the rest of the truck."

"Truck?" Kid Flash echoed.

"Yes."

"Explain."

"Whenever we go over a bump, we go over it five times. That implies five rows of wheels."

"Oh. Okay."

"My communicator is down. How's yours?"

Kid Flash lifted his elbow from the floor and, very aware of the discomfort his movements were putting on Rob, put his finger to his ear. "Nope," he sighed heavily. "Not even static."

"Strange."

"Yeah."

"What are you doing?"

"Well," Kid Flash began, "I figured that while I'm in this position, I may as well scratch my nose. You want me to scratch yours?"

"Yes, please."

Kid Flash's gloved finger rubbed the tip of Robin's small, button nose, and while the younger teen usually would have laughed, he simple said, "Thank you," and continued to look annoyed with this whole predicament.

They shifted again, and stayed like that. Kid Flash didn't mention that his elbows ached, even with the cushioned bottom.

Wait.

Cushioned?

"Are we in a _coffin_?" he asked loudly, feeling more than a little sick. No. No way. This was _so_ out of his job description!

"Ssh."

"No, dude. This is a coffin. I'm not _ssh_ ing. This is creepy. I'm scared. I don't want to get buried alive."

He was going at superspeed now, each word sewn to the next with worry and nerves.

"Shh!"

That stopped him. Kid Flash swallowed and his eyes trained onto his best friend, whose face was barely visible in the glow coming from between two planks of wood on his left.

"I think we're going over a bridge. Okay, three hours ago we left the Hall of Justice. A bridge three hours from Washington." Even with his mask on, Kid Flash could see Robin's eyes light up. "We could be crossing over into Gotham!"

"They do security checks, right? Before we're across, they'll have found us!" Kid Flash's brows pinched together. "Right?"

The hesitance that came before Rob's answer said it all. "If we alert the guards, we could get them killed."

This really, _really_ sucked.

The truck slowed, and twitched, and twitched again, and three more times, then sped up. Kid Flash adjusted his position, arms tired and sore. More bumps and he changed his mind, instantly pushing himself away from the boy.

Robin blinked as he realised that there was something poking into his thigh.

He looked at Kid Flash.

Kid Flash bit his lip.

Saying nothing of it, the two simply froze, and in less than ten seconds, the _poke_ became a full-fledged bulge.

"Why in the name of everything ever are you not wearing a cup?!" Robin finally spluttered.

"We were just supposed to be doing a speech and waving at some cameras! I didn't think that we'd be getting kidnapped and shoved in a coffin!" the speedster replied in a low wail.

"Why wouldn't you wear one anyway? Be prepared – superhero rule number one!"

"Because wearing one makes my junk look smaller and if I'm going to be on TV then I may as well show what I'm packing!"

Robin simply couldn't even _begin_ to recognize that as legitimate logic. "You've got to be kidding me, right? What you're _packing_ is now pressing against me, and—"

Another speed bump had a loud gasp from a blushing Kid Flash interrupting Robin's angry words. He fell silent as KF's eyes fluttered open almost immediately.

"I'm sorry, dude," he mumbled sheepishly.

Robin dropped his head back against the headrest. "Just… try to think of some scientific formulas, okay?"

All he got was a nod in response. Robin tried—really, genuinely _begged_ himself—to forget that this bridge was riddled with raised areas – an attempt from the Gotham City Council to hopefully deter any speeding terrorists. Unfortunately, it didn't help when there was a truck that seemed more than happy to wait in the Friday-night queue, creaking and moaning on its wheels as the engine rumbled. The icing on the cake, however, surely was that each quick jolt and bounce seemed to knock Kid Flash a little off-balance, and so, consequently, Robin was feeling _way_ more of his best friend's puberty blues than he had ever wanted to.

The awkwardness clearly getting to him, the boy tried to move around and find some way to _not_ rub against the hard-on straining noticeably against the crotch of KF's uniform. It wasn't an easy task, he realised in despair when he had to force his butt off of the bottom of the coffin in his fourth try to find a comfortable position. Every way he moved—left, right, up, down—had his thigh fitting too closely between Wally's.

"Stop!" the older teen finally pleaded. It was almost enough to elicit a protest, but Robin noticed as the light from outside rebounded off of the large, ink-black pupils that were so full in KF's eyes and the whine in his voice melting in its own huskiness that this was only making it worse. "I know that this is weird and stuff, but stop moving, or you're gonna make me…"

Oh, _nuh-uh_.

Robin did not under _any_ circumstances want _that_.

It wasn't that he didn't think KF was… hot. Robin hadn't told anyone—although he was pretty sure that Bruce knew, because there was only so much internet history that you could hide from _Batman_ —but guys were good. Guys were almost as good as girls.

But how embarrassing would it be if the Justice League showed up to find that Robin, poster-boy for perfection, had some nice, fresh stains on his uniform?

Kid Flash dropped his forehead to the cushioned floor. The embarrassment driving him as far away from Robin as he possibly could be did not quite smother the ache in his limbs from being held up so long. He knew that Rob would've offered to trade spots by now if he could, so that meant that they _couldn't_ , and there was another set of speed-bumps. A set of two, this time. Wally's cock throbbed as each one had his hard-on hitting or brushing or rubbing against the black fabric of Rob's tights. They were thick, but not thick enough to mask the warmth of his skin without the temperature-blinding setting on, which it apparently _wasn't_ , so it ticked all the boxes of his dick's criteria.

Not KF's, though. His mind raced with panic and red lights and shame and when he whimpered it just sounded too damned _sexual_. He didn't want Rob to think that he was getting off on this. That would _totally_ not be okay. He'd never be able to look him in the eyes again. He'd have to quit the Team. He'd move to Switzerland.

"My leg's fallen asleep," Robin remarked in a quick groan. While Kid Flash appreciated the gesture that seemed to minimize—not eliminate, however—the awkwardness, it didn't help. "I just wish that this stupid thing was long enough to stretch in. Do you think they got a child's coffin just for us? Talk about _insulting_."

KF's mind was elsewhere and so less concerned than Robin about who the coffin was designed for. What if he was still hard when they got saved? How would he explain that to Miss Martian that he had popped a boner, pressed up against his _guy_ best friend, because of the world's stupidest security system? No wonder Gotham got so many crazies.

He decided to keep that last part to himself.

Behind his mask, Robin's eyes were closed. His mind was overcome by one of the fifteen mediation tricks that Batman had taught him so that he could remain calm in any given situation. All too snug inside a box against a pitifully hormonal speedster who flushed darker and darker with each rattle of the vehicle, now seemed like an appropriate time to test their strength.

Then it occurred to him that they had stopped moving, and the back of the truck was moving up.

"A lotta coffins."

"Business is good in Gotham, you know? Lotsa crazies, lotsa coffins needed."

"I see."

The torch's light caught Kid Flash's eye and he closed them to avoid the sting of harsh white. Robin's lenses filtered it through, though, and he could make out a middle-aged man with a bullet-proof vest and a cap. His badge said "Gotham Police".

"Seems clear," he noted into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. The back of the truck closed as soon as he jumped out. "Proceed to the next station."

The two superheroes breathed a sigh of relief; Robin's because he may well have saved another Gotham cop from a similar fate intended for himself and his best friend, and Kid Flash's because, honestly, he didn't know how happy he was on a scale of Grumpy Cat to M'gann, and he didn't care. As long as he wasn't getting busted with his cock standing to full attention, his reputation could theoretically remain intact.

He had given himself the all-clear too soon, however. This time, the bumps simply didn't stop. It was like an earthquake; everything rattled and he was practically _vibrating_ in the same way that he did by himself, and suddenly he was way, _way_ too hard, and everything froze. Robin may have said something, but the flood of merry betrayal from his own body seemed to remove Wally from any sense that didn't involve the release of hot cum into the crotch of his costume.

Kid Flash made a sound that was, quite frankly, more like a sob than anything else, his hips bucking and the hard bulge pressing against Robin's knee with them. It was quiet for a few seconds in the real world, but in Robin's brain, his blood roared and rushed and drummed into his skull, and then the redhead released a shaky breath. Robin knew what that panting meant, just like the blush that deepened right to Kid Flash's chin, and the movement as he drew his hips back as much as possible, which wasn't much.

Finally, Kid Flash removed his head from where it had been resting awkwardly beside Robin's ear, and it didn't make him feel any less awkward when Robin simply stated in a tone that was both bewildered and calm, "You came."

Kid Flash paused. Then he muttered, "Yeah."

"You dry-humped me until you came. Great."

"Not on purpose!" he exclaimed in a useless, miserable groan. "I'm sorry, alright?"

"Ugh, I can feel it," Robin groaned.

The shame settled deep in the pit of KF's gut, and then he noted that familiar smirk on his friend's face.

"What? What's so funny?"

"This is going to be the best thing the next time you get cocky," Robin replied softly. "You're gonna be showing off for M'gann, and I'm just going to look at you and say, 'You know what I really like? _Coffins_.' And you're going to turn redder than your hair, and nobody but us is going to know why."

A small grin spread on Kid Flash's lips. "You're over-tired, aren't you?"

"Over-tired and so done with this."

It was quite spectacular, actually. For a second, everything was dark, and Robin wondered if, maybe, there had been a black out.

Then there was light.

Batman looked down at them, and Kid Flash sprang away the moment he could, out of Batman's line of sight. The man seemed more intent on watching Robin get to his feet, anyway. All he said was, "Kid Flash, the Flash says that you need to go back to Base One, _now_."

He nodded so quickly that his head nearly fell off, and with one last glance at Robin, he sprinted from the truck and along the bridge, down the highway, and home.

The two Gotham-based heroes looked at each other for a moment before Batman broke the tension riddled with honks and yells and shouts of "Get off the road!"

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Is Kid Flash?"

"No."

Robin knew that Batman knew that something was up, but he didn't ask, and so Robin was grateful. He followed his mentor out the same exit that KF had taken in his rush to leave, and aimed his grappling gun at a nearby building.

"So nothing happened while you were gone?"

Robin smirked. "Not a thing."

**Author's Note:**

> How's _that_ for 3am writing?
> 
> (Rhetorical question.)


End file.
